


Leaves of copper, leaves of gold

by redsnake05



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Relationships, Backstory, First Age, Gen, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galadriel is a shaper of things. Here are some moments in her history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaves of copper, leaves of gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngstyChaosMagicUser (Kitsune_chan)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AngstyChaosMagicUser+%28Kitsune_chan%29).



Galadriel didn't remember the first time she went into her father's smithy, but she remembered the first thing she made. It was simple, made of beaten copper that she didn't even have to heat, but she was proud of it. She showed her father the leaf, of a shape she'd never seen, but had dreamed of, and he smiled and ruffled her hair. 

"A true child of this House, you are," he said. He took the brooch from her and checked it carefully, pointing out to her the places where the copper was uneven, but also praising the delicacy of the clasp she'd fashioned. She leaned into his side and listened carefully to his instructions and advice.

"When I am older, I shall make heirlooms for our House," she said. 

"I hope so, little one, though I fear you shall not remain content with my smithy forever."

She smiled and kissed her father's cheek before running to her mother to show off her latest treasure. Inside, Galadriel was already thinking of her next project, and eagerly hoping she might get to try silver soon. The future was a forge, ready to be worked at and made with her own hands.

>>>>

There were no forges in Middle Earth when she arrived. At least, there were a few in use in the strongholds of the kin-slayers, but Galadriel did not visit there. Her brother Finrod set up his furnace, but she found it busy with weapons and tools, which had never been her strength or her interest. She found herself plagued with inactivity, and her hands were desperate to take up their business again.

She visited Menegroth and loved it. They were strong people, with a great love of the stars and singing and nurturing growing things. She learned much of living things from Melian, but the desire to work with metal was strong. She saw no smithcraft done in within the Girdle of Melian, and felt constrained even in the middle of her contentment. Melian was the most beautiful of companions, knowledgeable beyond any elf Galadriel had ever met, and for a time she stifled her yearnings for the pleasure of walking beneath the trees and singing fit to burst the sky.

Eventually, Melian found her sitting on a bench, paper beside her and ink on her fingers as she contemplated what she had drawn. She'd not been able to resist the promptings of a dream, and she'd scribbled, in a frenzy, the outline she had seen.

"What is it you draw?" Melian asked, reaching for the paper.

"Nothing," Galadriel said, fearing that Melian would disapprove. Melian drew her hand back.

"It seems that it is, instead, something important."

"A shape I've seen in a dream," Galadriel replied. "I wish to make it."

"A carving?" Melian asked. Galadriel shook her head.

"I would need to smith it," she said. She waited for Melian to tell her that this was impossible. Melian sat back for a moment and considered her. Her gaze was kind and steady, but she was the Queen of this land, and she held Galadriel's fate in her hands.

"My girdle is strong," she said. "I encircle our land and keep it safe. We've had no need for swords or spears."

"That is not what I will make," Galadriel says. "If you wish your people to learn that, they will not find it from me."

Melian was silent for a long moment more, and Galadriel hesitated before speaking again.

"I have learned much from my time here. You have taught me many things that make this world brighter, safer, and I know I shall use them again. But this is the gift of my father, and my hands are empty without it."

"Well, set up your forge, then, and we shall see what you shall make. Never let it be said that I have grown too old to try new things."

Galadriel grinned and showed Melian her sketch - a silver basin, cupped to capture the stories the stars had to tell, of past, present and future. Melian nodded, seeing the beauty and practicality of such an item, and Galadriel sat beside her and anticipated the joy of shaping it with her hands and seeing the world in its reflections.

>>>>

Galadriel looked up in surprise at Celeborn's approach. He had never before come to her smithy, his tastes not running in that direction, and she put her hand to her roughly braided hair in consternation, hoping that she didn't have dirt on her face. Celeborn smiled a little shyly, like he wasn't sure of his welcome, and Galadriel forgot about her patched apron and dusty hands. She ushered him to a seat at her table.

"I am afraid I have little in the way of refreshment to offer," she said.

"I have not come to interrupt your work," Celeborn replied. "I have lately come home from an errand, and I found something I thought you might like." He opened his hand and Galadriel gasped, fingers reaching out but not touching it. It was a great green stone, rough, but promising to shine like a star when cut. She had seen this stone before, and remembered a dream she'd had of it as a child, cut to fit a silver eagle brooch.

She looked up at Celeborn and saw him gazing at her, obviously hoping that she would take the gift. She knew that he was a good elf, with a strong sense of what was right, but no need to be a king. She knew that she could work with him to shape and guard a land together, so she took the last step and took the jewel from his hand. His smile was bright, and brought an answering smile to her face. 

>>>>

The sky was bright above Galadriel's head as she looked down on the trees below her. They were golden in the early spring light, and her heart leaped at their beauty. She walked on, with Celeborn at her side, and they slowly came down the river to the edge of the forest. Over her head were flowers such as she'd never seen before, and the trees were silvery and smooth in their wood. She picked up a leaf from under her feet and laughed softly. The leaf was open, a darker, redder gold to the others, and she reached to the shoulder of her cloak, held closed by the very first brooch she'd ever made. She knew she'd finally found the land that had been made for her, and this was the place for her final smithy, where she would shape the future under leaves of gold.


End file.
